Disclaimer:
I do not own Monk or any of the characters associated.
A/N:
Hey, I've always wanted to do Monk fanfics. This
fanfic is going to detail the appointments Monk has with Dr.Kroger
but he may have another case soon.
Who knows? If I get enough
reviews, I may start a case! This will be a song-fic, though I'm
not showing the lyrics in this chapter. The song is Disorder by Joy
Division. Good song. Please read and review!
DISORDER
CHAPTER
1
"Adrian, you look tired. Have you been sleeping?"
Dr.Kroger asked, concern written over his face as he examined his
patient, Adrian Monk.
"What is sleeping? Closing your eyes
and leaving this world...this germ-infested world...oh, I can see
the germs right now on your chair."
"Adrian, germs
aren't visible, how could you possibly see them?"
"How
could you not?! Just crawling around waiting to give you diseases, so
they can laugh when you die."
"Adrian, germs don't
laugh."
"That's not the point!"
"Adrian,
have you had bed bugs?" he questioned, knowing that it would've
been near impossible for Adrian to have bugs in his home, let alone
his bed.
"No, I wash the sheets everyday."
"Were
you sleeping...in your sheets yesterday?"
"No, I was
sleeping in Trudy's old sheets."
"Have you washed
them?"
"I could never."
"How did you fall
asleep with all of those...germs?" Dr.Kroger asked, surprised
that Adrian could even tolerate such a thing.
"Well, I went
to sleep with my sheets, and then I placed Trudy's sheets over that,
and then I placed some sheets on top of that."
"Adrian,
I think...somehow, the bed bugs from Trudy's old sheets have
infested your bed. And those bugs are visible," he stated,
though only keen eyes could see them. Adrian Monk, however, had such
eyes.
Monk gasped slightly. "Of course."
"You're
going to have to wash those sheets."
"I can't...It's
Trudy. That would be like...washing Trudy away."
"Adrian,
Trudy's...gone. Perhaps you could use this as an experience of
closure."
Setting: MONKS BED
Dark chocolate eyes stared at the bed in front of him, a solemn expression upon his face as he slipped on his plastic gloves, picking up Trudy's old sheets and carrying them to the laundry. Sighing deeply, he poured detergent on them and began brushing away--the germs, the memories/
But he could never forget, for Trudy's essence still lingered.
